


luceat lux vestra (let your light shine)

by floralin



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mythology, Inspired by Hades and Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Jaehyun as Hades, M/M, Mythology - Freeform, does not follow the original gods’ family tree, excessive use of short timeskips, jaehyun is whipped, myth of persephone, taeyong as persephone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-23 08:27:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23075212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floralin/pseuds/floralin
Summary: jaehyun is lonely, and taeyong just happens to be the brightest existence in the world.(the myth of persephone, told of a god who never ventures into daylight and the one who paints sunrays across the shadows of his eternal life.)
Relationships: Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Lee Taeyong
Comments: 37
Kudos: 210





	luceat lux vestra (let your light shine)

**Author's Note:**

> gods/goddesses:
> 
> persephone — taeyong  
> hades — jaehyun  
> demeter — bo-ah (boa)  
> zeus — yunho (tvxq);; i’m so sorry i have nothing against him but the last names were convenient  
>   
> nymphs:  
> ten  
> donghyuck
> 
> *a/n: boa and jaehyun are not related. this does not follow the (messed up) family tree of the original greek gods.
> 
> also yes i know this is greek mythology and the title is latin ;-; if that sets you off somehow i'm sorry ! here's the ancient greek version if anyone needs it; thank you to aminah for commenting it!! → εκλαμπῃ το σον φως

Light filtered through the leaves of the harvest, warm like a mother’s touch, leaving little golden puddles of the sun that dappled the cool forest floor.

Nymphs, handmaidens and handmen of their goddess, danced through the fields, laughing, picking flowers and singing sweetly, like the tinkering of tiny bells, sharp and beautiful and unattainable. They were unseen by the mortals carrying baskets laden with the harvest’s best results, plentiful and promising, yet some pricked up their ears and swore they heard distant laughter ringing across acres and acres of land.

In the midst of the nymphs sat a young man who radiated light and warmth like the sun itself, cherry-red lips pulled into a stunning smile. On both his sides were two male nymphs, one draped across his lap and the other threading flowers through his golden locks—he laughed as a flower fell and dropped onto the resting nymph’s face, causing the latter to startle from sleep.

“Who’s that,” he grunted, not at all very mystical-like, and the nymph with the flowers dangled another one in front of him, grinning.

“No thank you, Donghyuck,” the first nymph said, voice laced with a sarcasm contrasting like black and white with his delicate appearance. “Let me be.”

“Refrain, dear,” the young man chided, reaching out and brushing the other nymph’s cheek. Donghyuck smirked, all golden skin and mischievous spirit, and the man pinched him lightly. “Really.”

And this was the goddess of the harvest’s only son, Taeyong, and with him his two closest companions, Ten and Donghyuck.

Born of the goddess and an unnamed father, Taeyong was considered a god of sorts, able to be sensed by the humans but not quite seen, accepted by the nymphs as one of their own. He lived not in the city of Olympus but in his mother Boa’s own garden realm, where she had built a cottage to shelter him and him alone.

And thus, Taeyong was too protected, too daring and bored of the world he had been living in for almost a century. The softness of his appearance gave way to a certain level of fierceness that ran down the tips of his fingers and glinted through the serene veil of his eyes.

After all, Taeyong was a god, and he would not let people forget that.

“What should we do today?” he asked Donghyuck, who blinked up at him with big, amber-brown eyes.

“Not much comes to mind,” the nymph replied, tilting his head at the elder innocently. His hands lay in his lap now, the flowers forgotten at Taeyong’s sudden question. “Were you considering something?”

The slightest, telltale hint of a smile flitted across the latter’s face.

“I’m considering,” Taeyong said, unable to keep the excitement from showing in his voice, “that we escape, venture deeper into the darkest part of the north forest. I’ve been meaning to for decades, but Mother was always watching me.”

“So now that she’s finally left you alone for a few hours, you want to run off and lose yourself in an unknown place?” Ten’s voice rang out again, unsurprised and amused, and Taeyong glanced down at him only to be met with a skeptical raise of the eyebrow. “We would anger Boa greatly if we allowed you to, Taeyong.”

“Would you rather I explored by myself with a greater chance of being lost then?” Taeyong asked, beaming when both nymphs shook their heads, too used to giving in to him. “Then let’s be off, shall we?”

Taeyong did, in fact, lose himself in the forest. In a rather peculiar way too. His legs, trained from decades of running across meadows hours upon hours a day, bounded agilely across scattered branches and other such as he ran deeper and deeper after the hellhound.

A hellhound, of all things—on his _mother’s_ land. Boa would be furious indeed, and Taeyong was determined to have a proper look at the creature he’d only heard about in storybooks. Sharp, pointed ears, a body longer and larger than most horses, moving like it could dissolve right into the shadows and no one would bat an eye—Taeyong was fascinated, to say the least, and felt a sort of delight laced with an inevitable fear run down his spine.

The hellhound was still running—it’d been a few minutes now, and it seemed to notice Taeyong and increased its pace, whether in fear or excitement he didn't know—he only ran faster. If it was hoping to lose him to human exhaustion, it was in no luck today, for Taeyong was no human.

And then it stopped—skidded to a halt, its long muzzle turning back, and Taeyong stared into a pair of glowing, blood-red eyes.

“Hello,” he breathed softly, and took a cautious step forward. “I only meant to greet you.”

The pair of eyes blinked, and then the massive shadow in the darkness expanded tenfold, like a giant maw, seeming to swallow everything in its stead and turn it into nothingness, and Taeyong’s mouth opened in a silent scream as he, too, fell into its grasp.

The first thing he heard— _felt_ , rather—was the panting of what sounded like multiple dogs. Taeyong coughed and jerked awake, and found that he was lying right in front of a gigantic hound-like creature, only instead of a single head there were three, their jaws hung open to reveal glittering white fangs, the faint, unpleasant smell of flesh filling Taeyong’s senses.

Slowly, he breathed in, then shakily got to his feet.

Three-headed dog. He scanned his surroundings. There was nothing but darkness for as far as he could see except for the towering iron door looming behind the dog, thousands and thousands of screaming, lost souls carved upon its surface, and then he was sure of where he was.

This was Cerberus, he remembered, guardian of the gates to the Underworld.

 _The Underworld_.

Strangely, Taeyong felt no fear as he gazed up at the three eager-looking dogs, saliva dripping from their mouths.

Strangely, he did not fear this place at all.

 _He’s the best of the triad,_ Boa had mentioned once, years ago, when Taeyong had first inquired about the god who ruled the dead. _More tolerable than the other two, at least. But his job is terrible; the Underworld is a dark, murky place with no life and no growth, and it has done his ego some justice over the centuries._

His mother, whose golden eyes had searched him for a moment attentively, reached out and tucked a flower behind his ear. _The dead do deserve kindness, Taeyongie,_ she smiled. _Remember that_.

An idea came to his mind, spurred on by the memory.

With caution, he raised his fist and, to his delight, found that his magic still worked; a little string of flowers bloomed in his palm and they quickly braided themselves through one of Cerberus’s heads before the creature could react. Bewildered, the other heads turned and attempted to sniff at the newly obtained object with unmasked curiosity, and Taeyong produced two more for them, one of pink roses, the other of blue. The two heads immediately snapped at them, to which Taeyong shook his head at and raised his hands at them in a placating gesture.

“There’s plenty more where that came from,” he said sternly, using the tone of voice he used on misbehaving spirits. “Don’t fight.”

They stared at him. Cerberus’s heads seemed to regard him differently now, less aggressive, and almost intimidated, like they could recognize the magic that flowed through his fingertips.

To Taeyong’s surprise, the elaborately (and morbidly) decorated black iron gate slid open with a hiss, a few clouds of blue smoke curling out from the other side, and Cerberus sat back on its hind legs and watched him innocently.

There was a long pathway that stretched into nothingness on the other side; shadows, dancing, and a faint, silver glow in the distance.

His mother’s voice whispered something in his mind—a warning, probably—but it was faint, and Taeyong was far more interested in this than he’d like to admit.

It took him all of three seconds to settle his resolve and step into the darkness, and from then on, all was instinct.

*

“Good news and bad news, my lord,” was the first thing Jaehyun heard when he returned from a particularly difficult meeting with Thanatos and a new soul—they’d had to call in Jaehyun himself to settle the issue of the poor woman’s dying circumstances, and he suspected the beginning of a throbbing headache in a few minutes. This only made it worse.

“Good news?” he asked, hoping to ease his temple. He made a mental note to contact Boa later and ask for any remedial herbs that might help with his frequent headaches.

“We’ve found the runaway hellhound, my lord. She was unhurt and seemed to be in good spirits.”

“Oh, thank Gaea,” Jaehyun sighed immediately, closing his eyes and mentally preparing himself for whatever followed. “What is the bad news, then?”

The messenger fidgeted. “Well…”

Jaehyun opened his eyes again, fixing the soul with a commanding stare.

“Sh-she wasn’t alone when she returned, my lord. Someone followed her when she shadow-traveled, and I’m afraid they’re still here.”

“What?” Jaehyun said loudly, unable to keep the shock from his voice. “Followed her in? But any living souls are sent straight to Cerberus, where they’re driven back into the mortal world.”

“That’s the strange thing, my lord,” the messenger replied nervously. “We did check the gates, but it appears that they have done something enough to placate even Cerberus. He let them pass. We checked the mouths, fearing he’d been sedated, and found the remains of this.”

He produced a cluster of flower petals, varying in color, from his palms. They were covered in saliva, and Jaehyun held out his hand in a command.

“Flowers—living flowers, in the realm of the dead?” he muttered to himself, examining the petals carefully. They were fresh, only about an hour old at the most. No living being could bring in such a thing and keep it alive in the Underworld.

Whoever the intruder was, they were no mortal.

Jaehyun closed his eyes again, drew in the life force of the flowers and searched for a similar energy across all of the Underworld—and found it near the Fields of Asphodel.

Magic, he sensed, overpowering, a presence stronger than nearly any in this realm other than Jaehyun himself. A god.

Clutching the petals in his hand, he rose from his throne with a command. “Seal off all possible exits to the Underworld. I must find this entity myself and inquire as to why they have come here, of all places.”

The messenger soul bowed, and he stepped aside as Jaehyun vanished to Asphodel in the blink of an eye.

  
  


Whatever it was Jaehyun had expected to see, it was most certainly not this.

He had expected some angry minor god or a curious spirit, perhaps, who had accidentally fallen into the shadow while it was transporting the hellhound. He had expected something he had seen in all his thousands of years of living.

Jaehyun did not expect to see the most beautiful man he’d ever seen sitting cross-legged in the middle of a dead garden he’d long abandoned—only it wasn’t dead now; it was filled with strange, silvery flowers, ones he hadn’t known existed and could somehow be grown in such a barren place.

And the man—the man was ethereal. He emanated a golden glow to him that did not fit his surroundings at all; he seemed so _alive_ , the warmth of his dark eyes shining as he succeeded in growing another strange sort of flower, this one a blood-crimson. His face seemed to be, for lack of a better term, sculpted by the gods themselves, though deep down Jaehyun knew even the most artistic being in the world could never have created someone so breathtaking.

For a long moment, he only gaped, jaw sliding open without notice, forgetting that he had made his presence visible in the first place.

Then the man looked up, and Jaehyun froze.

“Hello,” he greeted, and Jaehyun wanted to bury himself into the ground; even the man’s voice was gorgeous. “Do you own this garden? I apologize, there didn’t seem to be much growing so I thought I should liven it up a bit more.”

“D-do you know who I am?” Jaehyun managed to croak out disbelievingly once he’d finally found his voice.

The man tilted his head to the side, looking so incredibly puppy-like Jaehyun was sent into another overload of shock. “Yes, of course. Jaehyun, known to mortals as Hades. God of the Underworld?”

Stunned, Jaehyun nodded. This man knew exactly who he was and what he was capable of—knew of his reputation too, most likely—yet had not been frightened off by Jaehyun’s presence alone?

Not that he wanted to scare the man, but—?

“Who are you, and why are you here?” he chose to ask instead, in complete disbelief of the situation.

The man stood now, and he was only a few centimeters shorter than Jaehyun; his satin shirt was threaded with gold and little patterns of flowers and it hung off his slender figure almost too perfectly, and Jaehyun was about to implode.

“Taeyong,” the man introduced himself. “Son of Boa, god of spring.”

*

Through the clouds of Mount Olympus marched a raging force who shook the ground beneath them, earthquakes bursting out everywhere across the world from their rage.

A god’s temper, the wisest have said, was not to be toyed with. And as the goddess of all that grew on earth stalked towards the very center of the marbled temple, all trembled in fear and hid from her path lest they became the target of her fury.

All but a certain fool.

“Boa, what a pleasant surprise,” greeted the god lounging upon the largest throne in the palace. “What brings you all the way here?”

“Yunho,” the goddess addressed coldly, face drawn tight in anger. “My son has vanished, and I demand assistance in my search for him.”

The king of the gods merely smiled, faintly amused. “Taeyong, was it? Delicate little thing, but a god nonetheless; perhaps you have not searched quite thoroughly enough?”

From the sides of the hall, the other gods nearly sighed out loud in unison, exasperated. “Here it comes,” one murmured.

It was said that Boa had two types of anger; one glacial, like the bite of blizzards in the deepest winters, freezing everything in its path to nothing but broken fractures of ice.

And the other, well. It subdued even the mightiest, and a god was no exception to its terror.

Here, irises becoming molten lava, words edged with fire, Boa strode up the steps to the throne, alight with a new type of rage.

“Need I remind you, _child_ , that I am much, much older than every single immortal in this room, including you,” she said calmly, not even a tremble in her voice. Yet the effect was instant.

Yunho shrank back, the first hints of fear beginning to show in his eyes. He opened his mouth mutely.

“Need I remind you,” Boa continued, almost casually, “that I control the earth itself, that I control the very survival of your subjects?”

She sneered, raising her chin high. “Your title is nothing— _nothing_ compared to the destruction I can bring if I so wish to. Every single little follower of yours, gone, just like that.” She snapped her fingers, and the king of the gods flinched.

“Remember that, fool,” she said as she stepped away and turned her back to the throne, sweeping her long cloak behind her in contempt, and the goddess disappeared into a mist of gold.

For what seemed like an eternity, there was only dead silence in the throne room. No one dared speak, or even move, Boa’s sharp words lingering in the air and in their minds.

And then a goddess stepped out, her silvery figure glowing like moonlight.

“Well, then? Let us begin the search.”

*

The palace of Hades struck Taeyong as a gloomy place, almost reminiscent of rainstorms in the mortal world. Though unlike the threatening presence storms carried, it gave off more of a melancholic, lonely feeling, like it had not been used in a long time, and he couldn’t help but shift his gaze to the slightly taller figure walking in front of him.

Hades, or Jaehyun, as the immortals knew him as, was very unlike the terrifying stories Taeyong had always overheard being told to young mortal children, though he supposed it was really no surprise as the mortals usually got many ideas wrong; their world was quite messy.

The king of the Underworld did not have blood-red irises nor did his mouth breathe the smoke of death. His face was ghostly pale; Taeyong was not sure if that was natural or the result of being in a place that lacked so much life and light.

Regardless, Jaehyun _was_ indeed handsome, having the sharp, princely features of an Olympian, but he did not radiate confidence (read: arrogance) like his two brothers did on the occasions when Taeyong would see them.

In fact, Jaehyun looked—reserved.

Years in the mortal world had sharpened Taeyong’s perception of all different kinds of people, gods included, and Jaehyun’s eyes screamed “tired” rather than “angry”. Concern rose in his chest.

“Lord Hades,” he addressed carefully, and Jaehyun stopped, head turning slightly in acknowledgment. “Forgive me for being intrusive, but when was the last time you properly slept?”

There was a long pause, and then— “Is that a matter of yours?”

Taeyong only blinked at him in question, unmoving.

“Sorry,” Jaehyun amended quickly as Taeyong was about to respond, a faint hint of red tinging the tips of his ears. “I didn’t mean for my words to sound so harsh. What I mean is,” he cleared his throat. “There are not many who would worry for the god of the Underworld’s health. I just didn’t expect you to ask, that’s all.”

He looked a little flushed now, ears a healthy shade of pink slowly spreading to his cheeks. _Cute_ , Taeyong thought before he could stop himself. _Jaehyun is cute_.

“Then I suppose I’m the only one around here with a heart,” he answered, half-joking.

“You might not be wrong,” Jaehyun murmured, and Taeyong raised an eyebrow, dropping his humor. “My responsibilities outweigh my health, and I _am_ immortal, so it has never been much of an important matter to anyone.”

Something in the edges of his voice whispered that Hades had not felt true happiness in a very long time.

“Even the mightiest need someone to look after them,” Taeyong said quietly, meeting the god’s eyes. They were a nice, deep shade of blue, rimmed with faint, dark circles, and Taeyong wondered if Jaehyun had even thought about taking care of himself in the past few decades.

“Unfortunately, little god of spring, I cannot afford that luxury.” There was a bite now, to the way he spoke, and Taeyong understood that this was an untouched subject.

Wisely, he did not prod, but the mere thought of Jaehyun scaring him off was almost laughable. And Taeyong did not like being called “little”.

“How unfortunate indeed,” he said, entirely unimpressed by this facade of intimidation. “Well, it seems like since I’m here I might as well assist you, shouldn’t I?”

Surprise flitted across the other god’s features before it was smoothed into impassiveness again. “There is nothing here for you, Taeyong,” Jaehyun said quietly, though Taeyong sensed the slightest falter in his words. Self-deprecation.

“Oh, isn’t there, now?” he asked.

Lifting an arm, he flicked his wrist, sending a warm, golden streak of light across the vast, barren land of the Underworld. It illuminated a stretch of ground as far as the mortal eye could see.

“Tell me, Lord Hades, what do you see when you look out there?” Taeyong turned to Jaehyun. The god blinked.

“...I see the place where I reside. The place where the dead reside. The Underworld.”

Taeyong smiled and produced from his hand a single tufted seed, cupping it in his upturned palm so Jaehyun could see.

“Do you want to know what I see?”

Jaehyun turned towards him slowly, curiosity peeking through the dark shadows of his eyes. Raising his palm to his lips, Taeyong blew softly, a single puff of a god’s breath, and the seed sprouted the moment it touched the ground, young branches reaching out as if they could touch the sunlight streaking the earth somewhere so much higher.

“I see promise,” Taeyong finally said. He closed his eyes, felt the fragile lifeline of the tree, felt it strung across his own. “I see growth, potential, in these empty lands.” He glanced at Jaehyun, whose gaze was fixated on the sapling.

“This is a young willow tree, Lord Hades,” Taeyong explained, brushing a gentle hand through its newly grown leaves. “Do you know what willows symbolize?”

The god was silent, eyes never moving from the soft glow of the tree. He shook his head.

“Life.” Taeyong allowed his words to carry, quiet as they were. “Willows symbolize life, Jaehyun.”

At the first call of his real name, his intimate name and not the royal title Taeyong had been addressing him with, the god looked up, face slack.

“Life,” Jaehyun repeated, whispered. His eyes had grown shiny. “But life cannot exist in the land of the dead,” he continued, doubt beginning to overshadow hope. “It never has.”

“But it can,” Taeyong said gently, taking his hands. They were cold, a single obsidian ring decorating his right middle finger. “I am the god of spring,” he said, adding a bit more force to his words. “As long as I am here, life can flourish even in the most lifeless of places.”

Jaehyun stared at him, and Taeyong saw the storm clouds part to reveal a clear, wondrous blue.

*

It would be easy, Jaehyun thought, to fall in love with Taeyong.

He thought this on the second day as he watched Taeyong sprout a garden of flowers around the grounds of the palace, the glow around his figure never fading, his smile blinding.

He thought this on the third day when Taeyong marched into his workplace upon realizing that Jaehyun had been working without pause for over twenty hours, jabbed a finger in his chest, and ordered him to rest, leaving not a single spot for argument.

He thought this on the fourth day when an attendant had rushed into his quarters, wheezing that Taeyong had ventured down into hellhound territory, and Jaehyun had immediately left all his duties only to find Taeyong sitting cross-legged in the middle of an entire pack, completely unharmed as he braided flower crowns for them.

“They like me,” he had said, and Jaehyun found that he related to the enamored looks on the hellhounds’ faces too much.

He thought this for days on end as he watched Taeyong greet each demon worker with the same genuine smile as he had the last, as Taeyong escaped to the forest to run with the hellhounds and spoil them with affection, as Taeyong threw fleeting grins in his direction from time to time that made Jaehyun’s stomach flip.

Sometimes, Jaehyun wondered if this was reality.

“Isn’t it better up there?” he asked on the twelfth day when Taeyong had returned for the supposed evening—time was barely relative in the Underworld—carrying a basket laden with fruit.

Taeyong set it down on the marbled surface of Jaehyun’s work table. “The mortal world, or Olympus?”

“Wherever you spent the most time. I could hardly imagine someone like you finding a place like this comfortable to live in.”

Taeyong met his gaze, puzzled. “Someone like me?”

“Yes, you, well, you’re.” Fumbling, Jaehyun searched for the right words. “You’re the god of spring. Sunlight, life, growth, nurturing—everything the Underworld isn’t. You deserve to thrive with everything you represent, not stay in a wasteland with a lonely god who hasn’t left his realm in centuries.”

Averting his eyes, Jaehyun gripped his pen tightly and continued to read over paperwork, the words jumbling into an indecipherable mess in his head.

“To answer your question: no.”

A finger tapped the tip of Jaehyun’s pen, causing him to look up.

“It’s not better up there,” Taeyong continued, his eyes trained on the far distance, across the valleys and slopes of the Underworld. They flickered down to Jaehyun for a moment, sharp, punctuating. “There are reasons why you do not visit Mount Olympus, are there not?”

Jaehyun swallowed back the bitterness in his chest that surged up into his throat with the reminder of several unpleasant memories. “There are,” he agreed.

“Then I assume your reasons are not too different from mine.” Something fierce flashed in Taeyong’s eyes as he plucked the pen from Jaehyun’s hand and examined it, but Jaehyun understood that it was anger directed elsewhere. “Olympus is for the elites. It emphasizes hierarchy.” Taeyong traced the Hades symbol carved into the side of the pen, and Jaehyun felt his chest constrict.

“Some of the gods are friendly. Hermes. Hestia. Athena adores me and she makes it known.” The corners of his mouth quirked up, but the smile disappeared again in an instant. “But it is too stifling, and I am glad to be away from it, even if my mother’s realm is one of its more pleasant ones. I would not like to speak of my time there.”

Jaehyun nodded. He understood that feeling quite well.

“Now, about that other statement you made.” Taeyong turned to him, eyes narrowing. “I have chosen to stay here, and I will remain here unless you wish for me to leave for a reason other than thinking the Underworld unsuitable for me.”

“But I still don’t understand,” Jaehyun couldn’t help but ask, utterly bewildered by this decision. “Out of all the realms of the gods, you chose mine. The Underworld, the place of the dead, of pity and pain, where I was outcast by the others. You could have chosen anywhere. Why here?”

For a long moment, Taeyong only stared at him, expression too complicated to decipher. His eyes still held that fierce, inextinguishable spark Jaehyun had come to admire.

Finally, he set the pen down, hand reaching out to curl around one of Jaehyun’s.

“What do you think of me, Jaehyun?” he asked, intertwining their fingers. “Answer this, and then you will understand why.”

Jaehyun swallowed, trying to calm the erratic beat of his heart. He hadn’t felt so nervous in ages—in fact, ever since Taeyong’s arrival, he’d been experiencing more emotion than he had in the past several centuries. He would not let this opportunity go to waste.

“I think you’re beautiful,” he started out slowly, hesitantly. When Taeyong’s gaze prompted him to continue, he did. “You’re so incredibly beautiful, not just by appearance, and to me, no one will ever surpass you.” He paused, gaining more confidence. “I think you’re terrifying, too. Not in a bad way—not to me. You’re terrifying in the way you stand your ground and you bow to no one, not me, not even my brother himself, the ruler of the gods. I think that’s amazing. You have so much power, yet you use it for good despite the knowledge that you could use it to destroy the entire world, and anyone who tried to stop you would be obliterated. You’re the worst chaos and the loveliest peace combined into a single entity. You’re Taeyong, and I think—no, you _are_ the best thing that has ever happened to my immortal life.”

Taeyong’s eyes swirled as they looked at him now, reminding Jaehyun of the hurricanes that ran rampant on the surface of the earth, wild, untamable, unpredictable. They shone.

And then Taeyong’s other hand reached forward, fingertips tracing the underside of Jaehyun’s jaw, featherlight.

“You realize,” Taeyong said softly, the softest Jaehyun’s ever heard him speak, voice barely above a whisper. “You realize that you are the first to ever truly see me?” His eyes were pools of amber now, intense. “That there is not a single living being I’ve encountered who has ever seen me as clearly as you do?”

His palm brushed against Jaehyun’s cheek now, and he leaned into its warmth. “You see _me_ , Jaehyun. Not the overly protected son of Boa, not a helpless minor god who was snatched away by the clutches of darkness or whatever they must think of me right now. You let me oversee Cerberus and the hounds. You let me carry out my own orders to _your_ workers. You trust me. You have been nothing but the best to me, regardless of what fears and scars you may have, and I have come to love you for that.”

Nothing Taeyong had said could have compared to the effect of the very last phrase he uttered that knocked the air completely from Jaehyun’s lungs, his heartbeat stilling in his chest for a stunned moment.

 _I have come to love you for that_.

How could—?

But Taeyong held his stare, stubborn, unwavering, just like he had always been, and Jaehyun felt something burn in his chest, not unpleasantly. He welcomed it.

“Can I,” Jaehyun murmured, at a loss for words. “Taeyong, can I—”

“Yes,” Taeyong breathed, understanding, and he surged up, meeting Jaehyun’s lips with his own.

The kiss was soft yet firm, grounding Jaehyun to this reality, an assurance, a reply to his loneliness. He loved Taeyong, who loved him in return, a feat he once thought impossible.

Yet there was nothing false about the way Taeyong’s hand still gripped his tightly, the fire in his eyes alight when they broke apart as if to melt away the layer of ice that had kept Jaehyun’s heart locked away for so long.

“I as well,” he said when his voice finally returned. “I love you, Taeyong, more than anything else. I,” and he paused, mind drawing a blank. It was too much, far too much.

“Jaehyun?” Taeyong, still gathered in his arms, ran a thumb across his cheek. “Are you crying?”

Liquid warmth blurred his eyes; it stung, and Jaehyun realized that he was indeed crying, the feeling almost foreign.

It hurt, but not the way misery did, not the way sadness had always seemed to latch onto his shoulders and weigh him down. It hurt in a liberating way, like a drowning man breaking the surface of the water.

“Oh, Jaehyun,” Taeyong said, full of emotion, and Jaehyun rested his head on Taeyong’s shoulder, closing his eyes and letting himself cry freely. For the first time for as long as he could remember, he felt hope take flight from his heart.

*

“Are you sure about this?” Jaehyun asked, brows furrowed.

“For the sixteenth time, I’m sure,” Taeyong answered firmly but gently, holding the single pomegranate seed between two fingers.

They had discussed this the night before, and Taeyong had repeatedly reassured Jaehyun that he would not regret the choice he was about to make. The reminder that he would anger several gods with the news later did not bother him in the least—Taeyong knew how to deal with that. He had taken the liberty to have a letter delivered to his mother a few days prior, and she sent one back yesterday morning, half of it harried scolding and the other half genuine happiness and understanding for Taeyong’s decision. They had called off the search, though the matter of the pomegranate would be kept a secret until Taeyong and Jaehyun decided to reveal it.

“You do realize—”

“I realize that this is the equivalent of a marriage vow and I will be bound to you for eternity, yes,” Taeyong finished for him. Fondly, he brushed a stray tuft of hair out of Jaehyun’s eyes. The dark circles around his eyes had faded, and color was beginning to show in his face, though Jaehyun had assured Taeyong he had always been this pale and was not unwell in that aspect. “I love you, Jaehyun, and I love the Underworld. I will not regret this.”

Jaehyun’s eyes searched his for a moment, and then he nodded. “I trust you.”

Steadily, Taeyong placed the single seed in his mouth and chewed briefly, letting the sweetness run about his tongue before swallowing.

It was anticlimactic, really. The seed tasted perfectly normal and looked the part too, though Taeyong fully understood the weight of its power, of the unseen yet present effect it would have on his life. And that was fine by him.

He turned to Jaehyun, sweet, loving Jaehyun, whose gaze still held so much awe when Taeyong should be the one in disbelief that this god, this king, this man— _Jaehyun_ —is finally his, and beamed. “Hello, husband.”

*

There was a new god the mortals spoke of, one whose stories made the Lord of the Underworld’s tales pale in comparison, one who carried out the cruelest punishments in Tartarus, whose eyes flashed with unimaginable rage when provoked, whom even Hades sometimes trembled in fear of.

There was a new god, the wise ones said, one who weaved life between their fingertips and breathed the winds that scattered seedlings across the land, a being who had marched right down into the Underworld and placed the crown upon their own head, whom Hades himself had fallen in love with.

There was a new god, one who tamed hellhounds and grew flowers of poison, and the mortals called them _Persephone._ Bringer of destruction.

_(“Do you know what I see now, when I look at this place?”_

_“What do you see, love?”_

_The rulers of the Underworld stood side by side, figures silhouetted against the faint glow of something they had created, together._

_“Home.”)_

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](http://twitter.com/jaehyuckist)  
> [curiouscat](http://curiouscat.me/yoonohyuck)  
> notes:  
> \- the seasons already exist in this universe, so there’s no compromise of persephone!ty having to leave the underworld for 2/3rds of the year. he does visit his mother often, though.  
> \- i bent some of the original mythology to suit how i wanted the fic to go (like the above)  
> \- i don’t like sad jaehyun so fitting his character with hades here was mildly painful, but i love this version of the myth of persephone and had to write a pairing into it, and i admit i’m quite fond of jaeyong.  
> \- p.s. yunho i’m so sorry i love you :(  
>   
> kudos and comments are much appreciated; i'd love to hear feedback :D  
> much love,  
> lin.


End file.
